Oyakata: one's master or boss. Attaching -sama garners extra respect to the title.
Uwagi: the kimono style shirt that is worn by samurai.
Chapter Six:
Standing beneath the wooden archway facing the courtyard Amayami, frowned at the gray, drizzling sky. She hoped, even as she heard the servants scramble behind her with last minute preparations, that the dismal weather would be enough to dissuade Touga from his inane notion of a holiday.
Absentmindedly, she brushed stray raindrops from her breastplate, fighting growing feelings of dread. Worry for, her people, her lands, and most of all her father, pressed heavy upon her soul, a staggering weight that threaten to bring to her knees. And, although she longed to crumble, she did not dare. Thus, she was abandoned to bitter, traitorous longings for foul auguries that could offer understanding to the unseen calamities lurking on the outskirts of her thoughts.
After a moment, discarding any semblance of stoicism, her hands shakily rose to cover her face and she attempted to cast all thoughts from her mind. An impossible feat, for the more she dwelt on nothing, the more she was reminded of everything. Her thoughts chased each other, circling and twisting around, becoming nothing more than an agonizing cacophony.
Shuddering, she closed her eyes and breathed a great, exhausted sigh. Her painfully thin shoulders slumped in defeat and she began to rock back piteously on her heels. Choked sounds that could not quite be called sobs crawled from the slim column of her throat and slipped passed her chattering teeth only to beat themselves silent against her trembling lips. Her throat ached with her effort to muffle the wretched mewling and her eyes stung with tears she was too prideful, or perhaps simply too exhausted, to shed.
She wanted to scream and gnash her teeth in frustration. Abandon all sense of decorum and run shrieking into the rain. The image tore a laugh from her throat, a sharp broken sound that ended with a strangled sob. She recoiled, eyes widening to stare through splayed fingers as if she could not understand how that sound escaped her throat. Stunned silence smothered any further sobs. That such a beaten, defeated sound could have ever come from her was intolerable.
She straightened hastily, pulling herself up to her full, willowy height. Brushing away untidy strands of rain-plastered hair from her cheeks with the back of her hand, she inwardly berated herself for lapsing into something other than the epitome of noble dignity.
With practiced discipline, her porcelain face became unreadable, smoothing into the familiar, haughty and aloof expression for which was both admired and feared. That she was a touch paler than usual, almost ashen, and her whitish-blue eyes were lacking in luster, was of no consequence. No one would care enough to notice.
Her brows knit together, wrinkling the crescent moon on her forehead, as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Lips quirking into a small, sheepish smile, she murmured, "I'm tired." Pushing herself away from the archway, she stepped into the icy drizzle and its promise of sharp wakefulness.
Despite the angry rumble of distant thunder, sunlight had already begun to peek through darkened storm clouds, casting uneven light and scattering shadows. Rain had turned to mist while she had stood watching, but still, cool drops fell from their rest of treetops as she strolled, almost aimlessly, down the wooden walkway that circled the courtyard.
A sudden breeze tugging at her hair and clothing showered her with a myriad of tiny raindrops, which soaked her clothes and left her shivering to her toes. At least she was no longer weary, shocked awake by the icy cascade. She stared hard at the wayward drops beading on her well-oiled armor, like tiny-mirrored pearls, before blindly brushing them away.
Freezing mid-gesture, her features darkened as a sudden pain shot through her. Fighting a wave of nausea, she grimaced and sagged imperceptibly, armor biting into her still tender ribs. Suffering through injuries was a staple of her relatively short lifetime. More accurately, she endured, for only the weak had the luxury of suffering. Such was the price of war.
Ironically, the more she had endured, the more her father, Takayuki, had suffered in her place. Knowing that she was willing to die for him had brought him no small amount of grief. But Amayami never realized this until it was far too late. Yet, on some level, she had understood, for his reasons for silence were undoubtedly akin to her own.
Footsteps echoed, ringing just slightly over the pattering rain, as a guardsman, one she vaguely recognized, strode toward her. He stopped at a short, but still respectful distance from her, and bowed formally. "We are ready to be underway, milady."
Amayami nodded slightly as her eyes glancing briefly into the rain soaked courtyard. Frowning at the guards in the courtyard, at least a dozen, milling about. "How many soldiers are to accompany us?"
"Six as far as the border," the guard reported crisply. Misinterpreting her disapproving frown for one of worry, he took a hasty step forward in an attempt to alleviate her imagined distress. "Worry not Amayami-sama," he reassured, a bit too zealously. "None would dare attack the Inu no Taishou!"
She let one of her eyebrows rise. If Touga had been present, he would have recognized the gesture on as one of polite flippancy. An expression reserved solely for those whose words she thought inane. Her tone bored, but slightly sardonic, she replied, "Oh?"
Understanding the undercurrents of her tone, the guardsman, offered a sheepish grin. It prompted another raised eyebrow and a slight smile from Amayami.
His grin broadened as he bowed foppishly and inquired with all the bravado he could muster. "Shall we be off, Amayami-sama?"
"We will not being going anywhere," drawled Touga's deep, resonating voice from behind them.
"Oyakata-sama," the guardsman greeted quickly. Eyes darting worriedly to Amayami, he bowed lowly. Oddly, he thought her expression was bland, calm, as if she feared nothing. Not even the retribution of an outraged husband. He wished he could claim the same. "Forgive me, I should not have presumed--"
"Run along," Touga ordered flatly. The terrible wrath in his eyes, however, did not match his unemotional tone. A rage, that almost reached an explosive intensity when the guard, in a rare display of insolence, hesitated to leave.
Touga's face thinned, curling his upper lip back in warning. His spine straightened and the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed, until he appeared much larger than he had a moment ago. The guardsman paled at the aggressive stance as his eyes flicked back to Amayami.
She looked pale, lovely, and decidedly unimpressed. As if her husband's dreadful wrath or the threat of his horrible power was nothing out of the ordinary. "You may go," she said, her voice soft with her usual calm.
Despite his pallor, the guardsman managed a crisp bow, not daring to meet either daiyoukai's eyes, and excused himself. He did not need to see Touga to know his Lord's eyes were upon him. Watching as one watches an insect soon to be crushed.
"What is he to you?" Touga more demanded as the guard exited, treating his wife to a soul-withering glare.
Amayami looked at him blankly and wondered if idiocy was something intrinsic to the west. Leaning forward, she tilted her head and whispered in conspiratorial tones, "A guard."
Touga sniffed, attempting to remain indignant, even as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "I can imagine what he wanted to guard." His words were clipped and sardonic, but void of true anger.
Smirking, she sidled up to him, peering coyly through the pale bangs wafting around her delicate face. "Oh?" she mouthed softly as she ran her forefinger teasingly down his chest, catching his hastily tied sash with her claws.
Touga found himself watching as she tugged its silken ends, carefully pulling free the lopsided bow until the sash slithered sinuously from his waist. Swallowing hard, he stared as she pulled the rumpled fabric between her slender hands. Entranced, as her fingers, so pale they appeared ghostly, deftly smoothed the wrinkles from the crimson fabric.
His mouth went strangely dry. "Perhaps steal is a better word."
She smirked at his explanation, or perhaps she smirked for the sake of smirking. No more than a slight, half-turn of carefully painted lips, but enough to send warmth coursing through his body. Leaving him to wonder, not for the first time, how anyone could be so exasperatingly chaste, and remain so maddeningly seductive.
An unfamiliar feeling, different from the lust he felt for his concubines, erupted. As she let her slender arms slip deftly around his middle, he felt his pulse race and his muscles jump. Swallowing hard, he let his eyes follow the soft, alabaster curve of her cheek.
Seemingly of their own accord, his hands moved to her shoulders, sliding down her silk clad arms with the gentlest of caresses. It was the only part of her not covered, at least partially, with rigid armor. Tipping his head to sniff delicately at her hair, he breathed in the warm wildness of her essence that wafted beneath the soft, flowery scent of her perfume. Jumbles of chaotic sentences, hasty demands, and almost-pleas crashed through his mind. None of which seemed fitting or even reasonable.
He leaned into her, their armor not allowing him to become as close as would have liked. "I'm sorry," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, uncertain for what he was apologizing. "I was…"
They locked eyes for a moment. Although her eyes were serious a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Stupid."
If it had been anyone else, he would have been outraged. Instead he smiled in reluctant agreement, surreptitiously nodding his head. He was unable defend himself without admitting the unseemly truth.
He had been jealous, nearly driven to the brink of madness at the sight of her speaking cordially to another male. Not just any male, but one well renowned for his flirtatious nature. It mattered little that he knew her to be chaste, innocent, and above all, honorable. Just the thought of her with another was unacceptable.
He slid his hands slid to her wrists and grasped her smaller ones, alarmed to feel their coldness. "Are you well?" he asked, sudden concern filling his eyes. He then frowned when she pulled her hands away, and turned her back to him.
"It was crooked," she said distantly, fighting the urge to hug herself. She was could not bear his closeness. She was naked and invisible in a crowd of faceless strangers; strangers that a month ago, were also mortal enemies. She was alone.
Touga glanced briefly at silken fabric around his waist. He found it properly secured with an expertly tied knot that gave its bow the right amount of heft and allowing the sash's embroidered ends to elegantly flutter freely. He returned his gaze to her as an ironic, 'hn,' died in her throat.
"I suppose it's understandable," she mused, her finger tapping her chin as she turned around. A smile curled at her rouged lips as her mellowed voice dropped to a near deadpan. It was a tone that managed to sound pointed and infinitely nasty. "Your concubines are far more skilled at removing your clothes than putting them back on."
An uncomfortable silence passed as they stared at each other. Amayami's expression was as blank as Touga's was angry. His nostrils flared and pinpricks of scarlet danced in his eyes. She appeared uninterested, blasé, despite the strange flutter low in her belly.
Tension grew until it was almost tangible, the air around them still and smothering. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of rain and their staggered breaths. Without warning, their bodies crashed into each other. Limbs tangled as their hands flew over heavy armor and tugged desperately at restrictive clothing, seeking flesh.
Frantically Touga's mouth burned against hers. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, gently taking the plump tissue between his teeth. She made a soft, half-grow low in her throat, her tongue slipping into his mouth.
She tasted and explored his mouth with a fierce hunger, daring him to match her frenzy with his own. To her satisfaction he did, cupping the back of her head with one large hand to hold her still for his attentions.
His warm, almost burning fingers crept down her thigh, scalding her through the thin silk of her hakama. Molding his hand against the soft swell of her bottom, he pulled her toward him and lifted her from the ground, inwardly cursing the armor between them.
She latched onto his neck as he lifted her up, nipping and licking at the tender flesh right over his pulse point, until he was barely able to hold back his growl of pleasure at her soft kisses. He did not wish to frighten her off. But then, her small hands wiggled beneath his armor, into his uwagi, and his self-restraint faltered.
Forgetting where he was, where they were, and all pretenses of decorum, his fingers fumbled over the buckles of her armor. If any servants saw them, they either stepped away or pretended not to notice. It mattered little which, for they were paid well for their silence and none was so bold as to reprimand him. None save the woman pressing velvety kisses to his thick eyebrows.
"Touga," she panted huskily against his ear. Planting a desperate line of kisses along his jaw, she suddenly pulled back. Flushed and breathless, she pressed a finger to his lips when he tried to capture her mouth with his again. "Stop."
Touga's mood sank, his ardor slowly cooling as a strange chill settled over his body. He had moved too fast in his desperate desire to have her, like an uncouth youth with no control. And it had frightened her. This was his lady wife, not some cheap harlot. His virgin lady wife. His jaw ached with the effort not to speak, to not beg her to give him another chance. He would be gentler, softer, more mindful of her delicate sensibilities. He would.. Nearly scowling at the thought of being reduced to begging his wife for favors that should rightfully be his, he tried to step away. But she held him fast, gasping great, ragged breaths.
She rasped something that even with his sensitive hearing was inaudible.
Her quite voice pricked his conscience. Frowning, he ran a comforting hand over her hair, careful not to snag any tangles the wind had created. His other hand he held lightly around her waist, ready to hold fast if she tried to wiggle free. He was not ready to let her go yet. Swallowing tightly he hoarsely whispered, "I didn't hear," his lips pressing against her temple as he willed his heart to slow.
She swallowed twice before finding her voice, her words coming in little pants against his throat. "Not here" -she shook her head and swallowed the pants- "Not here."
Touga started for a moment, more surprised than he had ever been. She hadn't been frightened. Hadn't been repulsed. His lady wife… wanted him. He hugged her fiercely, a roguish grin brightening his features. Lifting her head up to his suddenly, he kissed her, covering her face with quick, tiny pecks, but lingering for a moment on her sweet lips. Dazed with unusual happiness, he grabbed her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. "Let's go."
Eyes hazy, she nodded, slightly confused and more than a little grateful when he, instead of pulling her toward their private chambers, led her to their entourage. She was too relieved, not to mention embarrassed, to question him.
Lifting her by the waist, he set her upon the broad back of strange two-headed reptilian creature. She arranged herself, sitting with dignity of her station, even though a moment ago, her behavior was rather common.
Touga sat behind her, his arm wrapping possessively around her middle. With a wave, he silently signaled the tower watch to open the fortress gates.
From the window of her quarters, Lady Akako watched the Lord and Lady pass through the heavy wooden gates. Scowling as Touga pressed a kiss to Amayami's cheek and buried his nose in her hair.
How disgusting! she thought, her thin lips twisting into snarl. Who was this Amayami, that she could waltz in and gain the Inu no Taishou's favor with the barest effort? After she, Akako, had served him with her body and heart for more years than the whelp had been alive.
"Kanyane," she snapped, her voice low so not to be overheard. Having a male, other than the Inu no Taishou, within her chambers was grounds for execution. "You ask me to commit treason."
Kanyane doddered forward, his staff clicking against the wood floor. "Now, my dear," he said with humor in his tone. "What treason could the Lady mother of the Inu no Taishou's heir commit?"
Akako pressed her hand against her flat belly. "That is if I am the mother of his heir," she growled, turning on her heel. "If that bitch has her way, I'll be out on the street!"
Kanyane gave a sympathetic nod. "Perhaps," he agreed, almost smiling when she turned around in huff. Sometimes, it was far too easy. "But if she was not here to have her way..."
Akako's eyes grew wide with panic. "I can't fight her-" she shook her head "-she's too strong."
"Oh no, my dearest," Kanyane said with a chuckle. "I would never think to put you in such a distasteful situation."
He stepped forward and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Even now, plans are underway to rid this house of that spurious trollop. And when that happens, there will be need of new Lady wife."
Akako's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile twisting at her lips. "Tell me what I must do."
---
Ryuukossei sat on upon his beaded cushion with his legs crossed. His long, clawed hands picked idly at the stitching. Eyes lowered seemingly to examine the loose cushion threads, he watched through his eyelashes as his guest paced about the small room.
"If you are wasting my time, dragon…" his guest threatened, not for the first time.
Ryuukossei made a small, 'tut,' sound, nonchalantly folding his hands behind his head. "Now, now I'm beginning to believe you don't trust me, Shigekazu-sama."
Shigekazu's brow rose slightly as he retorted dryly, "You would be correct, then." He turned with a flourish, sweeping his long white hair from his eyes with a clawed hand and frowned. "Your messenger is late."
Tilting his head, the dragon youkai blinked thoughtfully at the midmorning sun. "I do believe you're right," he said mournfully and tossed back a cup of sake. "When he arrives, I shall have him flogged for your amusement."
Shigekazu glowered, but said nothing, once again cursing his spineless brother-in-law for forcing him to deal with unseemly creatures.
She was worth it, he reminded himself. Not only because of what she meant to their people, but because of what she meant to him. She was family, his beloved sister's sole child, and he would never forgive Takayuki for bartering her to the enemy. No matter what the cost, he would retrieve her, even if he had to walk through hell and back.
'Be brave, my dear Amayami. I'm coming for you.'
"What does this Inu no Taishou want?" Shigekazu sneered suddenly. "Gold, land, incense, slaves? What do I have to give him to have my niece returned?"
His voice was angry, but beneath the rage was an undercurrent of desperation. Ryuukossei smiled inwardly as he poured himself another drink. The desperate were always such wonderful playthings, especially when it involved family.
"I think the better question might be," Ryuukossei began, taking a sip from his cup, "What you are willing to give."
Shigekazu was about to make an angry retort, when someone rapped insistently at the antechamber door. He frowned in disgust as Ryuukossei drained his cup in a single gulp and staggered to his feet. Light spilled into the darkened room as the dragon youkai slid open the door and ushered in a messenger wearing the livery of the western hold.
Shigekazu brushed imaginary lint from his crimson uwagi. He pretended to ignore the messenger, forcing himself to wait in a well-bred fashion even though his soul screamed for answers.
"You are Kanyane's servant?" Ryuukossei asked, although he already knew the answer. "Tell me, why didn't the old dog come himself, eh?"
The messenger looked stricken, but managed to stutter, "I-it's not my place to question his lordship."
Shigekazu rubbed his temple, claws grazing the crescent moon on his brow. "Are all the dogs of the west such sniveling cowards?"
"Yes," Ryuukossei replied, laughter in his voice. "But they pay so very well." He clapped his hands suddenly, startling the messenger. "Come now," he remonstrated as he waved toward his half filled bottle. "As you can see I'm very busy, and my friend" -he jerked his head toward other daiyoukai- "is very impatient. Talk."
Shigekazu's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, his pale white-blue eyes boring into the weasly servant. The boy obviously knew nothing. He had been a fool to waste his time consorting with this drunkard of a dragon.
"It's about Amayami-sama," the messenger stammered, more frightened of Shigekazu, than the dragon now leaning against the wall.
Shigekazu walked a predatory circle around the lesser youkai, his claws clicking together absentmindedly. "What about her?" he asked mildly, as if inquiring about the weather.
"Touga-sama has grown quite possessive of her," he answered, staring solemnly at Shigekazu's booted feet. "And protective."
"Protective," Shigekazu repeated, grimacing as if it were an ugly word. "Explain."
"As you well know, inu youkai are instinctually territorial creatures," Ryuukossei interjected, his tone bland. "But with the Inu no Taishou, that instinct is almost an obsession. Once he desires something to be his, he will stop at nothing to gain control of it."
"And what does he desire now?" Shigekazu asked darkly, almost dreading the answer.
A throaty chuckled passed the dragon's lips. "Let's just say, your niece is a very stubborn young woman."
Shigekazu snorted a humorless laugh and whispered to himself. "She has her mother in her."
"However," Ryuukossei began, pretending not to hear his companion's murmured confession, "He doesn't know what he has."
"Good," Shigekazu responded grimly as he turned to face the dragon. "She'll be safe for a while longer."
"Just out of curiosity," the dragon said, his tone wondering, but eyes deathly serious. "What will you do if the Inu no Taishou refuses to bargain?"
Shigekazu's eyes fluttered shut. A moment later he slowly opened them, his lips thinning to a frown. "Kill him."